


You Are Never All Alone

by thornmallow



Category: Thor - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 22:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornmallow/pseuds/thornmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just one of those Thor and Loki as kids stories; no big.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Never All Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Because I will always, always love you.

Summer in Asgard was a fragrant, delectable season. Gentle breezes carried the scent of blooming flowers and ripe, sweet fruit throughout the gardens and the roads and into the windows of Asgard’s people. The clouds were thin white streaks, as though from a painter’s careless brush, across a blue sky that shimmered with heat. Tempers were easy, bodies were restful, and a tranquil sense of laziness presided over all affairs.

For his part, Loki preferred to enjoy this bounty from within the cool confines of the palace library, or really any other room that protected him from the harsh sunlight. However, Frigga had encouraged him to take in the fresh air, believing that time spent soaking up the warm climate would fortify his delicate health. He was a boy given to fevers, to chills, to any manner of debilitating physical ailments that, while temporary, came upon him with the regularity of a harvest.

He felt strong enough to oblige his mother that day, so he carried his spell primer to a favorite apple tree on the palace grounds and began to read beneath the shade of the long, leafy branches.

Loki murmured to himself as he pored over the book, tracing the runes with his fingertips as though trying to memorize them by way of his skin. He was no good as a warrior, as his initial practice sessions with Thor and wooden swords had proven, but when he fetched a pitcher of milk at dinner just by willing it to levitate over his glass, his mother urged him to train in sorcery. Loki suspected that this change in path disappointed his father slightly. Odin smiled and praised his son whenever he had a new trick to demonstrate, but the All-Father outright cheered at Thor’s sparring matches.

That was all right, though. Loki planned to learn every spell in every book ever written, and more besides. His father would cheer for him then; he would have no choice.

Presently Loki’s stomach rumbled. He tried to ignore it, but the whisper in his belly became a wail and soon broke his concentration. He leaned back against the tree trunk and considered his options. He could walk back to the palace, but it had taken him fifteen minutes to reach the tree and the afternoon was at its dreadfully sizzling apex. Perspiration dampened his collar at the thought of making the journey now, especially since an embarrassing collapse on the way was a very real possibility.

He sighed and looked up into the branches. Many fat, shining red apples hung there. Loki licked his lips, suddenly wanting one more than anything else in the world.

He marked his place in the spell primer with a neatly arranged bit of green ribbon. He set the book down in the grass and steeled himself. Breathing deeply, he grabbed hold of either side of the tree trunk and attempted to shimmy up, as he had seen Thor and his friends do many times in the past. He managed to pull himself about three inches off of the ground before his upper-body strength failed and he skidded back down to earth, tearing open his palms on the rough bark as he fell.

Loki hissed in pain, whimpered, and felt tears well up from his throat.

“Brother! Heeyy, brother!” Thor’s loud, effervescent shout broke over Loki like a thunderclap, which he supposed was appropriate.

Wracked with shame, Loki hid his face in his sleeve as Thor approached.

“Loki, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I want to go swimming, and then it’s lunch, and then I thought we could explore that little grove a ways east of here—I’m told faeries keep their circles in it and will grant wishes if you’re extremely polite—and—” Thor stopped in his outline of their schedule when he realized that Loki was shaking and that his brother had allowed his mop of dark hair to obscure his features.

Thor frowned. “Brother, what is it? What’s the matter? Did someone make fun of you? Cos I’ll kick them, I will. Right in the head.”

“No,” Loki said. He wiped away the tears and showed Thor his shredded palms, which were bright red with blood. “I wanted an apple.”

“Oh,” Thor said. “Well, that’s simple. Here …”

“No!” Loki said. He hiccupped, cringing at his own weakness. “I can get it. There’s a way.”

Loki took up the spell primer and searched it frantically, scanning for anything that could help him in his helplessness. “Okay. Watch this.”

Thor couldn’t disguise his skepticism—he was only twelve—but he made a show of stepping back to let his brother work.

Glancing from the page of runes to a particular apple in the tree, Loki drew sigils in the air that burst to glowing, burning life. He recited an incantation, and his body trembled with a rush of unleashed, magical potential. Hope surged in him, and he closed his eyes as the spell took effect, crackling and electrifying the wind around his knees, lifting the hair from the back of his neck.

He expected to open his eyes and find the apple waiting for him in the grass. But nothing greeted him except the grass itself, swaying peaceably in the zephyr. The book was gone.

“Oh,” Loki said, panic rising. “Oh, no.”

“It’s all right!” Thor said. “Look there.” He pointed up into the tree; the book sat snugly among the branches, near where Loki’s desired apple still taunted him from its bough. “Did you, um, mean for that to happen? It was very impressive either way.”

Loki groaned. “Obviously not. I was trying to make the apple appear before me, but I must’ve drawn the sigil wrong or mixed up the words.”

“No problem,” Thor beamed. “I’m here for you, brother.”

Thor rocked back on his heels and then sprinted at the tree, leaping onto the trunk at the last moment and scurrying up like he had been born to do it. In one swift motion, he snatched the book with one hand and the apple with his other, then jumped back down with such grace that not a speck of dirt or leaf clung to his vest.

Thor bowed before Loki, offering the apple and the book as one might offer a crown to a king.

Loki took them gingerly, as his hands were stinging, and said, “Thank you. I could have gotten them myself, though.”

“Loki,” Thor said, clapping the smaller boy’s shoulders. “We’re brothers. We’re supposed to help each other, right?”

Loki smiled a little at this inarguable logic. No one but Thor had seen him falter, anyway, so he guessed that it wasn’t so bad. “True.”

Thor then hugged him with such force that he nearly dropped his things.

“Of course it’s true. Now come on. We have to get you some salve. We can tell the healer that you got hurt fighting harpies in the forest.”

“But Thor,” Loki said, as they headed for the palace, “there aren’t harpies in the forest any more.”

“Yes, but the healers never leave their chambers and a lot of them are really old. Trust me.”

Loki laughed. He bit into his apple, let the juicy crispness fill his mouth, and decided that he absolutely trusted Thor. How could he not? They were brothers.


End file.
